


give and take

by kalypsobean



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Autonomic Dysfunction, Canon Disabled Character, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sexual Anhedonia, Soft Cock, anorgasmia, spinal cord injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean
Summary: Ignis has been Noct's caretaker for several years; naturally, that leads to experimentation, and a thing they don't talk about, just like Noct never talks about how he's still dealing with his injuries and Ignis never talks about how he's perfectly happy to just be there for whatever Noct wants.Takes place just beforeParting Ways, prior to the events of Ch.1 Departure.Notes regarding Noct's condition are in the endnotes.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	give and take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [graiai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/graiai/gifts).



He can tell it's one of those days as soon as he unlocks the door. It's a cumulation of facts, all of which he notices within a few seconds of arrival; the door is still locked, for one, because if Noctis is up and has been out, he'll leave it unlocked and unlatched for Ignis. The air inside the apartment is warm, and feels a bit like a gust of wind hitting him in the face as it rushes out to mingle with the cooler air in the hallway. He shrugs off his jacket once he's closed the door, since he won't be needing it again until he leaves; he leaves it on top of the cabinet with his keys and wallet so he knows where everything is amid the mess. Noct' shoes are where they were yesterday, and Noct's outdoor things are still dumped in the corner. Noctis is also meant to be packing, but the boxes sit untouched, still folded against the wall. The only thing that seems to have been moved since Ignis left is Noct's chair, half unfolded as if Noct had tried to use it and cast it aside in frustration, and a pile of blankets on the sofa.

One of those days, then.

Ignis gets the food started rather than put it away only to take it out again in; sometimes he'll start and Noct will (sometimes quite literally) magically appear, and they won't comment on where he'd just been. But by the time he's set everything to simmer and put the rice on, Noct hasn't even called out and it's enough to make Ignis go looking. At least, after he takes a moment to appreciate being able to use Noct's kitchen without someone draping themselves over the counter and attempting to prevent any kind of vegetable getting anywhere near a chopping board, let alone a saucepan. He takes small victories where he can, after all.

It's a large apartment, for the area, but Noct's always in one of two places on days like this - the sofa or his bed - and if the muffled noise when Ignis pokes the blanket pile is anything to go by, it's the sofa.

"It's cold," is the first thing Noct says when Ignis pulls the blankets back. Ignis sighs and kneels by the sofa. The coffee table pokes into his back, and he wiggles until he can make enough room to settle against the sofa and lean his head back on Noct' blankets. 

"It's quite warm," he says, but Noct's hand is cold on his shoulder, and suddenly, it all makes sense.

"Should I ask Gladio and Prompto to help with the rest of the packing?" he says. Noct makes a sound that could be a resigned yes, so Ignis takes out his phone and sends a quick message to Gladio. 

"Done," he says, when Gladio's messaged back. He holds his phone up for Noct to see the replies and is relieved when Noct laughs. 

"If I knew earlier that Prompto would do chores in exchange for pizza..."

"You'll still be helping," Ignis says. "But let Gladio do the heavy lifting."

"'Kay." Noct is shifting; Ignis can feel it in the way the sofa bulges against his side. "You're cooking?"

"One last meal," Ignis says. "Think you can wash your hands first?" 

Noct's legs bump into Ignis' arm as he pushes himself up and rolls off the sofa. "Think so." His steps are slow at first, and Ignis feels as much as he hears Noct bumping into the table and then, a few steps later, the wall. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Noct says, and Ignis knows from experience that trying to help would only make it more difficult, as much as his heart aches at leaving Noct to stumble on his own. 

Of course, Noct is fine, although Ignis doubts that he did anything more than wash his hands and change his shirt, though he doesn't seem to have tried very hard at doing it up. He hadn't taken long either; the evening meal was simple, something he'd brought more to make sure Noct ate, definitely not prepared with the intention of staying to share it, or sitting with Noct after, so it was as simple as he could think of, essentially Noct-proofed. And, true to form, Noct had been back on the sofa before he'd finished plating it, and only bothered to sit up long enough to eat. Ignis had allowed himself the indignity of sitting on the floor between the sofa and the table, ostensibly so that he could put his own bowl down, but really to be close enough in case Noct needed help. He didn't move even when Noct squirmed back down under the blankets, not even to take the dishes back to the kitchen; he wouldn't want to disturb Noct, and it felt comfortable, somehow, especially after the hectic preparations.

"Ignis?" Noct says, and it's different from usual somehow; his voice is rounder, more uncertain. "Do me a favour?"

"Of course," Ignis says. 

"Would you pack my stuff tonight? Before the others come?"

And Ignis should have expected that, really, because while he's happy to do anything Noct asks for, Noct very rarely actually asks. It's either Ignis doing something without being asked at all, offering to do something after prompting Noct to tell him about it, or Noct asking for help because he's already struggled with something and Ignis is the only person he can ask. If Ignis is the only person he can ask, then there's not much else it can be; Ignis is the only one who knows what he means without words.

"You'll be okay without it?" 

"You'll be there, won't you?"

"Yeah," Ignis says. There's a pause, as if Noct is expecting him to push back on it, bargain somehow or make it conditional.

"Thanks," Noct says, finally, quietly. 

It hits Ignis then, how little time they have left. He might have, another time, agreed to help pack in exchange for Noct cleaning, or attending a cabinet meeting, or studying the latest intelligence reports. But he can't subtly nudge Noct that way when they're leaving Insomnia in two days, because there's no time. He will never sit here again, leaning against Noct's sofa with Noct's hand accidentally-on-purpose mussing his hair as they don't talk about anything important. The plan is, of course, for him to keep attending Noct, simply because Noct won't have anyone else see him this way and it would take far too long for anyone else to learn all the small things Ignis has simply adapted to and implicitly understood. But it won't be the same; Noct will be watched, shared, public, in a way he isn't now. They won't be in an apartment away from the Citadel, where nobody else cares to know them. He won't be the only one who sees Noct every day.

And what they have, if they still have it, won't remain a secret. 

Noct's hand is still in his hair, and he gently moves it away so he can turn and slip under the blankets, where there's just enough room for him to press Noct flat against the back of the sofa. Noct's skin is still cool, but it seems that eating and resting had gone some way towards restoring normal blood pressure, so Ignis reminds himself that it's not something to be concerned about for now. Particularly not now, anyway.

Normally he would take his time, go slow, be gentle, but even if he had time, he's not sure Noct could last that long; the last thing he wants is for Noct to fall asleep before he even realises what Ignis is doing. (Which has happened before - Noct could sleep through a hurricane, let alone sex that he can't fully feel.)

"Ignis," Noct says, but Ignis puts a finger over Noct's lips, not wanting to hear a smart quip or go through reassuring Noct that he's sure he wants to do this, that he knows it's not part of his job, that he really likes how he can find new ways to make Noct feel. Though, of course, he starts out with the things he knows work, things that Noct has made easier, apparently, by only wearing a shirt and boxers. Ignis knows it's for comfort, and basically out of laziness, not wanting to struggle when blankets will do just fine, but for a moment he lets himself think it's only that Noct planned for this, perhaps from when Ignis arrived. 

"Well? Get on with it then," Noct says, once Ignis has turned his attention to Noct's chest. There's wry affection there, and a smile, even though the words seem harsh; it's as if Noct has realised the same thing as Ignis, that this might be their last time like this, that they don't have the hours Ignis would normally spend on him, or the chance to let it go and try again if it's not working. Ignis is gentle, though, as he always is; he likens it to waking Noct's body out of a deep sleep, and he's always amazed when, after a thousand or so soft touches, he can finally feel a reaction beneath his fingers, whether it's sweat, a shiver, or Noct twisting away from an area that's suddenly overstimulated. Sometimes it's a racing heartbeat, sometimes it's too slow, and Ignis has to stop, count and wait, holding everything so still in case he misses the pulse of Noct's blood under his fingers, or doesn't feel it at all. 

He's never told Noct how he likes that, because it annoys Noct that it still happens, but in those moments he's fully sure that he's the one who made that happen, and he feels a mix of power and privilege and sheer possessiveness that he knows is unbecoming, and yet, he still does this. He still takes Noct's eyes closing, the way his breathing becomes deep and quick, as signs he's doing something right, that Noct's nipples hardening under his touch as an indication that today's one of the good days, and he goes lower, tracing what he can feel of muscles under Noct's skin.

It's rare that Noct actively participates in this, usually content to receive while being occasionally impatient or exasperated, so Ignis pauses when Noct's hands are on his shoulders, and then his hair, and then Ignis' glasses are slowly sliding away from his face. He stills, lets Noct pull them away, and waits. He thinks, perhaps, it's an invitation to go lower, but he hears the tap of metal on glass and then Noct's hands return to his hair, stroking and then just resting, no downward pressure. He flashes back to one of the times they'd actually talked about it, Noct's feelings of being helpless, unable to give back, and Ignis leans in, kisses the skin just above the few buttons Noct had managed, almost in acknowledgment; Noct's fingers curl just a little, gripping faintly. It's his way of being connected.

There's very few things that work that don't take time; that give the kind of near-instant gratification that Ignis wants to give. They'd worked out, accidentally, that while physical stimulation only got so far, and indeed, even when his body responded, given time or simply the right conditions, Noct didn't always feel pleasure from it, but if he could see what Ignis did... then it was different. Ignis slides down, carefully tracing over Noct's shirt, avoiding the cap and the scarring out of habit, and pats at Noct's hips, just above where he knows the experience of sensation stops entirely; Noct grumbles, but pushes himself up enough that he can settle on his back, and Ignis settles over Noct's legs. It doesn't have to last long, but he's careful about where he rests, taking as much of his weight on his knees as he can - he doesn't want to end the night by giving Noct a massage now that he's decided on how he's doing this. Noct's hands go back to Ignis' hair and it's comforting, almost, in how normal it is; how far they'd come in this, that Ignis was even allowed, let alone... He looks up, meets Noct's gaze, and when Noct nods, he slowly pulls Noct's boxers down - not all the way, just enough. He keeps his eyes up, using his hands to find his way down over scars he's known for years and the newer lines that have barely knit over, still tender and soft and yet drawing no reaction at all. He still needs to be careful; he wouldn't easily forgive himself for any roughness even if Noct wouldn't feel it, and would probably encourage him - he can almost hear Noct saying "had worse" in a particularly drawn-out monotone, the kind that usually preceded Ignis having to remind him that he was still expected to behave like a prince and Noct complaining that he wasn't made of chocobo down and could handle it. Even if he could bring himself to do more than just touch, it wasn't long ago that he wouldn't have even been able to try this, but Noct had insisted that if he was going to be leaving Insomnia he needed something that he could manage on his own, and now all Ignis had to do was avoid the incision and the thin tube running from under Noct's navel and keep it out of the way. 

It doesn't even matter that Noct never gets hard; Ignis prefers it, actually, because the expression on Noct's face when he wraps his entire fist around Noct's penis gives him that same rush he gets from having Noct entirely under his control. Noct's eyes are wide, his mouth open as if he's about to say something and the words won't come, and it seems he almost forgets he's holding Ignis' head, for his fingers curl into fists and pull, ever so slightly, as if trying to hold something back. And Noct breathes out, slow and even, as Ignis slowly slides his mouth down, taking his hand away and managing, just, to fit Noct's penis in his mouth. It's still soft, as always, and Ignis idly wonders how long he can stay there, if perhaps the visual would be enough for Noct on its own, but then Noct starts pulling at Ignis' hair, and he makes a shallow attempt at simulating bobbing. Noct takes over after a few seconds, and then stops, starts again more slowly, as if the motions he was making didn't quite match the picture he created for himself; Ignis tries to imagine it, whether in Noct's mind he's wishing for something more or if he's simply filling in what he can't have. With Noct's guidance, though, he finds he's able to keep a steady rhythm, though it's more of a rocking, given that Noct's being gentle, being slow. It's supportive enough, though, that instead of bracing himself on the sofa, Ignis can reach up, unerringly finding one of the areas where Noct has full sensation, and press his fingertips in, rubbing in time with Noct's hands - out and up, in and deep, and just a hint of a scratch to make it more acute, immediate, and to differentiate it from the dull almost-feeling that Noct sometimes complains about, the odd pressure where something's meant to be but isn't. Ignis could drag it out for hours, but it's only been minutes when there's a slight change in Noct's posture and his hands fall away - he wasn't exactly rigid before, but now he's pliant, almost boneless, as if all the energy got sucked away from him. There's an odd taste in Ignis' mouth as well, and he wonders, idly, if he'd actually made Noct come, but he dismisses it as a fantasy; Noct's never been able to and they'd had to make their peace with that when they started this, when it was just that Ignis was the one massaging Noct's legs, and curiosity had driven further exploration into what kinds of touch Noct could feel, what caused what, how they'd learned that visual stimulation helped most... and at the most only ever the smallest amount of discharge, as if from reflex only. 

Ignis slides back, ignoring the slight discomfort from doing so, as this has never been about him; he's quick and practiced at sliding Noct's clothing back into place, checking that the catheter and stoma cap are clean and undisturbed, and he's about to slip out when Noct stops him, a hand on his arm, a mumbled word that could be please. Ignis lies back down, helping Noct shift so there's room, and manages to hide his surprise when Noct's hand lands on his waist.

For all the times they've done this it's always been, for Ignis, about pleasing Noct, learning his body and teaching it back to him - he's never asked for anything back, never needed it; he's occasionally thought about it after, while bringing himself close, but always backed off, some feeling of awkwardness or impropriety getting in the way.

He doesn't stop Noct tugging at his belt, because it's what Noct wants and it's only right that Noct has it; his helping, of course, is just giving Noct what he's asking for. It's a clumsy touch, but Ignis finds it endearing; if Noct knew what he was doing, it would mean he wasn't special, that perhaps this wasn't just between them, something he'd earned and only he could give. He chooses not to show Noct how he likes it, firm at the base but light and with a slight twist up over the glans; instead he communicates the way Noct did, with his fingers combing through the messy hair behind Noct's ear. Their faces are close enough that Ignis can feel Noct's breath on his lips and when he's close, and he tilts his head up just so, Noct surprises him by catching his moan in a kiss, a languid, awkward touch that leads to another, and another, until Noct falls back.

"Now I'm tired again," he says, almost petulantly, but when Ignis tries to move away, Noct pulls him back. "A bit longer," he says, and Ignis stays until the city lights dim enough that he can no longer see them through the window as he listens to Noct breathe, almost asleep and then hitching, as if he too wants to make this last, not wanting it to end.

"I'll pick you up in the morning," Ignis says, finally pulling away and evading Noct's attempts to hold him there. 

"Fine, fine," Noct says, and then he's almost asleep, his breathing evening out at last. His forehead is smooth when Ignis treats himself to a small gesture of affection, brushing the hair aside and kissing Noct there, just one last time. 

"Sneaky," Noct says. Ignis fixes his trousers and starts on cleaning up before he can tempt himself into staying. After all, the one thing Noct has never needed him for is getting enough sleep. And Noct did ask him to pack, although when Ignis goes to do it he sees Noct has made an attempt at it himself, and there's not much to do but pack the medical bag, the one he used to carry with him whenever he accompanied Noct and somehow survived all this time. He leaves an irrigation sleeve and cone, but packs the rest, counting almost out of habit. Noct is still asleep, or at least, still pretending to sleep, when he slips back out. Ignis thinks must be hard on Noct, when he's worked so hard to look outwardly fine, now that he has to actively plan ahead; it never fails to awe him just how much of his body Noct entrusts him with. 

He's just folding the chair so he can carry that too, when Noct shifts and mumbles. Ignis doesn't quite catch the words and he's not sure there are any, but it's enough to know that Noct, at last, is properly asleep and should be rested enough for tomorrow's schedule. His part in it is, of course, irrelevant, but he takes a small pleasure from it anyway.

Ignis is already mentally arranging the limited trunk space in the Regalia by the time he reaches the street; his work is never done so long as Noct needs him to do it, and if he can give Noct a bit more reprieve than is strictly required, then he's just doing his job well.

**Author's Note:**

> In this story Noctis has not fully recovered from the injury caused by the Marilith attack. This manifests in the following ways:  
> \- He sleeps. A lot.  
> \- He can walk and run but uses a chair (which he hates) when he is tired, or has flare-ups of lingering issues with sensation and/or motor control (which he also hates).  
> \- He has transitioned to using a suprapubic catheter and colostomy irrigation which he manages himself, basically because he can time it to have "normal" days with minimal intervention.  
> \- He has some sensation and reflex in his genital area but doesn't feel pleasure or arousal from physical genital stimulation, though with enough time and attention he can achieve a sense of pleasure from being touched above the waist or with a visual stimulus.  
> \- He has difficulty reflexively regulating his body temperature, blood pressure and heart rate and is often either too hot or too cold as a result; this is often affected by stress.
> 
> Ignis was his main companion and carer after the attack and was taught to provide Noct's day-to-day medical care to minimise the number of people involved in Noct's care (and because Noct was not keen on letting anyone else see him that way). Despite Noct's steps towards independence, he is still trained to assist Noct when needed, provide any acute care, and is the one who orders Noct's supplies, something he takes very seriously and is very proud of being trusted to do (both by Noct and by Regis, obviously for different reasons). Apart from Regis and the Citadel doctors (whom Noct avoids more than he avoids vegetables), nobody else knows the extent of Noct's condition, and Noct would very much like to keep it that way.


End file.
